


sane responses to insanity.

by ohioinmymind



Series: beautiful savages. [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, but unless you wanted me to use danielle as the girl (yuck) this is what i had to work with, i don't fucking ship zeleanor or whatever, it's a ziam story based on savages, it's good read it pleaaaaase, where both guys love her or whatever but they love eachother more, yeah i needed a girl okay, you know the movie with blake lively man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohioinmymind/pseuds/ohioinmymind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world tears them down, rips them apart, and they build each other back up again.</p><p>(a oneshot loosely based on Savages.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	sane responses to insanity.

**Author's Note:**

> i know some of you may be waiting for an EYW update but i couldn't get this out of my head. 
> 
> WARNING. the pairing is Zayn/Liam/Eleanor. it's graphic and it's there, so don't say i didn't warn you. but give it a chance. to me, this eleanor is just a replacement for blake lively, who plays in the movie savages. 
> 
> it's good, okay? i think a lot of you will like it if you actually read it, so pleaaaaase do. it's a zayn/liam story to it's core. just extra elements.

A narrator is a peculiar character. Especially at the beginning of a story. The first lines of someone’s documented thoughts determine whether you’ll find the inner workings of their mind interesting enough to continue, to let your eyes soak in the details of each mundane activity they busy themselves with, trusting them to have the right capacity to make even the simplest of things capture the yearning attention waiting to be caught inside of you.

Or perhaps it’s not that intricate, less like a knot and more like a bow. More so like a pretty, glossy ribbon and not so similar to a matted tangle of thread at the end of a child’s kite. Maybe a reader catalogues the narrator’s thoughts to distract them from their own, or because they’re bored and nothing better strikes their mind at the time.

Just because these things are being told to you, doesn’t mean the narrator will be alive when the pages are closed. She could be burning, in a pit of flames that lick her skin dry and hot and scorching until the piercing sound of her screams drown out the pain she feels inside, the stabbing wounds that make her heart bleed from the inside out. Someone, a he perhaps, might be gasping for breath, drowning with no water in his lungs, only overpowering love and commitment he’s shunned at every turn except this one, the sharp curve that threatened to steal away all the things that he loves.

But someone could be alive. The narrator could be a man with his dreams in one hand, and a nightmare in the other, never able to have one without the other unless he lets both of them slip through the spaces in between his fingers.

No one knows which one, no one knows until they take that chance and immerse themselves in the world of another person.

_Things in Liam, Eleanor, and Zayn’s lives weren’t supposed to get so fucked up._

There’s your first line.

-

Being in love with two people in the same instant is a thing truly written in the stars, that’s what Zayn told her, whispered in her ear, fingers at the opposite end of a burning spliff and careful lips in her hair.

“We were destined, the three of us,” He points up to the sky, where the bright blue of the day was overtaken by the shadows of the nights, stars pinpointing history and beauty for them to feast their eyes upon as the sank their hands and toes into the sand. “Fate linked us together, brought us to this beach, to you, my love. And fuck—you love us, love us with this, this right here.” Her spine arches when he traces the underside of her breast, craftily splaying delicate hands over her heart and pressing his fingernails against the unsteady pitter-patter of her heartbeat. “And we love you,” he says, whispers mostly. Zayn removes his hands from her body, crashing in a cloud of sand with a parting peck to her cheek. “Nothing short of destiny, I’m telling you.”

“Or maybe we’re all just horny, you ever think of that?”

Liam isn’t so sure, doesn’t bend to the nature of the universe. He calls it hippie talk and drags the names of many philosophers through dense mud littered with quick judgment and the belief in what he can see and feel with his hands, not his soul. The soul only two people on this Earth were aware of, swore was buried deep inside his chest next to his hunger for war and pain and hurt.  Those two people and their individual souls were right here beside Liam on this stretch of paradise they have claimed for themselves.

Zayn sticks a finger in the air that tells Liam his comments aren’t appreciated and Eleanor gets lost in her own laughter, soaking it up and squeezing out the happiness onto the two boys on either side of her, drenching them in the joy and contentment she feels to be right here with them, each of them close enough to touch and hold and kiss and lay down on the beach and get lost in.

Eleanor needs to stay lost.

“Piss off,” Zayn says and she hears his voice in waves, rolling over her and encasing her in the chocolaty texture of his dialect. His accent makes her smile, thick and heavy and hard to understand when he murmurs foreign dialogue that only Liam seems to recognize when Zayn lets the burdens of the world affect him. “It’s more than that and you know it.”

But it’s not; at least she doesn’t think so. Not then, anyway but maybe later. Maybe when Liam and Zayn are the only things she has to hold on to, both hands wrapped around the memories of the time she had with each of them and both of them. The time she spent with neither of them.

Eleanor smiles at Liam and he doesn’t smile back. He never does, reserves the kind face for when it’s the two of them or when he’s looking at Zayn, eyes boring into ochre skin and tattoos faded from the sun when he thinks Eleanor has turned her head. She doesn’t mind because he still wraps his fingers around her waist and devours her, mouthing sloppily at her lips and grinding her into the harsh grains of the sand while they take turns biting the tinted skin of necks and shoulders.

He’s grabbing hands while Zayn is touches light as a feather. Liam fucks Eleanor, Zayn makes love to her. El notices, notices everything about them like they’re attentive to each detail about her. Liam is fucked up, lets his mind wander to his time in the jungle, dodging bullets and watching friends fade away in the soil. It’s all the same, they’re all messed up; Eleanor too high sometimes, misplaced in the lines of thin, white powder and the adrenaline that keeps her wrapped in sheets and conked out near porcelain bowls. And Zayn, with his hobbies and his smoking and his strange obsession with his plants and loving them and saving them and hating himself.

Sometimes it’s too much, like right now, when Liam is groaning, a deep sound that starts in his chest and ends at the tips of his toes. A sound that has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with the pain he feels, that he always feels. That they can’t stop but for a brief moment.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have a chance to cry out anything other than whimpers while Liam wickedly maneuvers around her body, but Zayn is there anyway. He’s there and he’s coaxing Liam away, rubbing a hand across his back and pulling him away from Eleanor, leaving her with a fast-rising chest and soaked bikini-bottoms. Zayn sends her a smile, a discreet _‘you’re welcome’_ for taking Liam off of her hands when his touch became too much for the soft curves of her body, the supple lines.

“It’s okay, Li.” Zayn is holding on to Liam’s shoulders, kissing him and letting his lips linger hushed secrets they forgot to share with her. “Babe, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Eleanor watches, always on the outside no matter how many people claim she’s stuck in the middle, planted there by her own whorish desires. Liam goes to slam Zayn into the ground, and for all intents and purposes, he does. Only the comfort is there, the hand behind Zayn’s skull before he crashes into the hard-packed surface of the grains cushions the blow, taking the brunt of the pain you won’t see in Liam’s face.

“Get _over_ here, El.” Zayn has the opportunity to breathe out while Liam is busy, busy marking bruises into the slim hips of his oldest friend, his only friend as he and Eleanor were so much more and so much less than friends. “Let him know you’re here, that we’re here.”

Zayn does this for her benefit, because he does love her. He loves her more than Liam loves her but he doesn’t need her as much. Doesn’t need the reassurance that she’s not going to leave or run far away or die on him like everyone else in Liam’s life has. Zayn just needs Eleanor to love him, to show her affections in flowers and home-cooked meals and kisses behind the ear. He returns the favor by needing her for this, by extending his hand even though Zayn has always been enough for Liam, even if he won’t ever let the words fall off his tongue.

She kisses up his spine, Liam’s. He moves back against her and she rests her cheek against his back, hands around his waist like she’s holding a cherished pet, taming an animal.

“I love you,” he spits, blood flying in the sand, blood from the bite he’d left in Zayn’s shoulder, kissing over it and whispering apologies into his skin because sometimes Liam just gets lost. Has flashbacks of gunshots and bloodshed and hatred and he needs someone to help him fuck the war out of his system. “I love you, two. I fucking—I love you. I’m sorry, I love you. I do.”

Eleanor falls to the side, echoing Liam’s sentiments along with Zayn, their voices floating together to Liam’s ears to placate the beast residing inside him. She wraps her arms around Zayn after she’s slipped from her place hunched over Liam’s back, and she kisses his injured shoulder. She watches, from the inside looking in because she can be in their space but never in their hearts the way she would like to be.

Liam takes Zayn right there, gets him out of his swimming trunks and spits on his fingers, making Zayn twist and writhe in Eleanor’s arms. Making him beg for it, for Liam’s mouth on something more important than his lips. Eleanor lets Liam open Zayn up, slide his tongue in his hole until the beach is overtaken by screams on Liam’s name on Zayn’s tongue. She slips down the blanket of sand and takes Liam into her mouth, lubing him up with spit and his own slick and bobbing her head up and down to please him, because that’s all she can do besides love him.

“Fuck, baby,” Liam breathes out, resting his head on Zayn’s thigh and it’s not apparent who he’s speaking to, Zayn who’s on his back and squeezing Liam’s fingers and tongue or Eleanor who’s on her back with Liam’s cock dandling over her mouth while she takes turns letting it hit the back of her throat and the pout of her lips. “So, so good.” And he’s kissing Zayn again, stretching him out, she can see it from here, even if her eyes go a little cross-eyed.

She palms herself and Liam lets his unspoken for hand reach down and pull at her hair until she’s crawling up to his mouth, both of them sandwiched between Zayn’s legs while he thanks her for her mouth with a kiss.

“You’re so good to me,” he says, fingers still pumping in and out of Zayn, making him dig his heels into the sand and fists the long locks of Eleanor’s hair. Liam unravels Zayn’s hands and holds the back of her head still, kissing her more gently than last time, less consuming and she hates it. Hates that he’s taking his time and caressing her instead of controlling her because that’s what Liam is supposed to do. “You don’t have to do this, you know? Be with us. You deserve better.”

“I’m not going to break.” She reassures him with a nip, a satisfactory moan slipping past his lips and into the cavern of her mouth. “Don’t worry about all that shit, Liam. Fuck him. Fuck him right here. For me, Liam? For me?”

She returns Zayn’s favor, pushing Liam past the limit they all want him to go, but won’t without proper motivation. He’s a mess of need and sacrifice and love hidden behind frowns and angry eyebrows and Zayn. Zayn hides everything for Liam but Liam can never return the favor, will only go so far before he pulls away and goes to Eleanor because he can’t stand the thought of changing times.

But he’s an animal, a savage. And his primal side, it needs Zayn, sees him as the anchor he is, keeping Liam from slipping away from his humanity. She’s just the passenger, maybe the person that tends the sails before the anchor can be dropped into the cold waters of Liam’s sanity.

It’s fast and hot and Eleanor is guiding Liam’s cock into Zayn and encouraging them both with her hand in between her legs. And Zayn is kissing Liam and running his hands over his back and Eleanor has never felt more alone than she does right now but that’s okay. Because she can get lost in loneliness.

“Baby?” Liam is questioning Zayn, kissing his face and checking over him to make sure he’s okay, giving Eleanor a passing glance and continuing to scour Zayn’s skin when she assures him with a nod that she’s just fine. “Baby, are you _—fuck—_ I was too rough. I love you, Za— _I’m sorry._ ”

Zayn shushes him, pulls him until he’s a heap of weight on Zayn’s chest and he’s being held like he’s a restless foal. “Calm down, love. Breathe,” he says, patting the shuddering shoulders under his fingertips. “We love you. _I_ love you. We’re just fine, Liam. Hey, look at me.” Eleanor envies the love shining in their eyes and the gentle way Zayn tips up Liam’s chin. They’re bonded, together forever to have and to hold and to share moments like this with women like her to fill a void in their lives unfulfilled by the hard and needy touches of a lover with sealed lips. “Don’t apologize to me. I don’t want to hear it, yeah? She doesn’t want to hear it. Come back with me. Come back to me, Li. ”

Then Liam’s climbing back down to Earth with Zayn’s hands as his ladder and El’s lips as his landing.

When he’s asleep and Eleanor’s put out the lanterns, Zayn cries. Tears run down his face while Liam sleeps restlessly on top of him with Eleanor’s stomach as his pillow. She runs her fingers through the inky fields of his hair and let him cry for them. He cries for Liam, because he’s so broken that they don’t know what to do, other than this. Other than loving him and touching him and holding him until the sun rises again and life puts them on replay. Lets the cycle spin, over and over and over again. A torturous series of unfortunate events from the past that bites their ankles as soon as they’re in reach of a better future and a brighter day.

So they stop trying to move forward and settle into their fate.

The world tears them down, rips them apart, and they build each other back up again.

“I love you.”

Eleanor’s not sure who says it, but she doesn’t really think it matters. 

**Author's Note:**

> so i might continue this, more than likely make it into something more dramatic and whatnot but i'm busy and i have several other stories to work on and i just wanted to share this.
> 
> it wasn't horrible, right??? did you love it or hate it, let me know! so i'll know if i should just stop at this one and move on with my life, lol.
> 
> tell me what'cha think! :D


End file.
